Shameca Biggs

Echoes of loneliness was his name.
Words and Story was the game.
We fell in and out of prose.
He the Thorn; I the rose.
...

He came back to me.
Back to the place where we fell apart.
Back to this aching bleeding heart.
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Dear Dark knight and black warrior,
Sitting here I now realize the ramifications of my sins.
Sometimes we have to lose just to win.
In finding my heart I lost my goal.
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You know there's something wrong when you're the soft to his strong. When he's the wrong in your right. The dark in your light.

And yet still you are pulled to him.
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Like a feverish hunger; the need to touch and be touch sizzles and thrives.

It's sharp sting of awareness buzzing inside me as the bees and their hives.
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Black and blue surround me and I hurt all over again.
My sorrow times ten.
I’ve considered reaching out for comfort, but no one understands. They’ll never be ‘that man’.
He’s all I see.
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Lyrics of a song dance in my head, his scent still lingers and covers my bed
A simple request sent as a prayer for salvation, answered with the test of all his creation.
Do you love me enough to sacrifice? I know I want to but will not pay the price.
A life for a life and a fate for a fate, but I would not trade my window for his gate.
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In the dismal gloom where black and gray entwine to birth a fog
I sit and ponder, sweat coating my brow in dread
Of those sinful deeds done, of those bitter things said
All the decided actions of my life recorded on a celestial log
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Your silence compels me to scream; instead I whimper
Your distance compels me to cling; instead I simmer
Your laughter compels me to melt; instead I hide
Your touch compels me to hunger; Still I cling to my pride
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Time creeps ever so slowly, and in that time there's you.
Outside of that time there's two.
Below and above that time there's few.
Two paths; few possibilities that I'll ever choose one.
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The happiness was always coupled with sorrow.
And yet the sorrow was gentle and quiet.
No matter the day, the hour, the yesterday, the today or tomorrow.
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You don't feel the ache until it's all over.
It swells and writhes, consuming the mind.
You thought you had plenty of time.
One minute life's a rose, the next a three leaf clover.
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It started with blood, sweat and tears.
The pain of the thrill being lost after years.
The pleasure of the hunt, the capture, the frills.
Fighting the plight of each valley after the hills.
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To Sound, to wind in the pattering rain
To Love's sacrifice and to Passions of Hate
To the slave and to the free
To the "I's" and the "We"
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Notes channeling pathways of stimuli through my brain.
Beats pouring; their thumping roaring.

A synchronized army of undulating movement.
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Blood. Water. Wine.
In and out of Time.

Bleeding for the Cause.
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Forever striving to become. Perpetually in a state of becoming.
Transformation.
Adaptation.
Customization.
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When a problem arises, it's like facing a slammed door.

Scrambling in search of a solution, you're then thrown one more.
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I roll down the river lightly afloat.

Eyes closed, nostrils flared, while humming the melody of the waters.
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I'm cold. It's dark. I'm blind.
I end up at this place every time. My end of the line.

I keep waiting for the cord to snap.
...